An Autobot Really Should Know Better
by swift hunter
Summary: AU Movieverse. A little sequel to An Autobot Should Know Better. This is the Aftermath!


DIsclaimer: I do not own Transformers.

AN: This is a kinda sequel to An Autobot Should Know Better. Pretty crackish!!XD AU movieverse. It might be wise to read the original to get an understanding of what's happening. But it isn't necessary.

The second part is a little bonus for all the people who reviewed the original oneshot. Just a thank you. XDDD

* * *

The red coloured Autobot whistled appreciatively. He took in every weld; every singular, almost artful detail of what he was seeing.

As you entered the med-bay the sight of Ironhide almost crucified to the ceiling was enough to stall the most stoic of processors and drive a laugh out of the hardest of afts. Up close, the genius attention and care that had gone into the weapons specialist's humiliation was truly staggering. Sideswipe recognized hours of work when he saw it. His respect for Ratchet soared to new and extreme heights.

Wheeljack shifted on the platform next to Sideswipe. The lift wobbled and the red mech threw his arms out to steady himself and hopefully cease the shaking.

"Why can't we use the gravity lift again?" He asked the engineer once he'd regained his former calm and carefree composure.

"It's broken." Wheeljack responded less than courteously. He could tell that Sideswipe wasn't comfortable on the Human machine despite his attention being fully fixed on cutting Ironhide down. At the moment he was still freeing the delicate patches of armour around the mech's shoulder. He didn't want to start on the weight bearing welds only to have Ironhide left hanging by the less durable structures in case anything went wrong.

The black mech in question was entirely conscious. His vocalizer was the first thing Wheeljack fixed but they hadn't been graced with anything more than snarls and growls since. He was quiet. Much too quiet for Wheeljack's liking. Sideswipe didn't seem to notice the uncharacteristic and frankly disturbing lack of complaints but then again, he was too busy admiring Ratchet's handiwork to pick up on any looming disasters.

"How do you think he got him up here?" The red mech asked; his optics focused on the good ninety foot drop to the floor. He tore his eyes from the hypnotic height to stare reverently up at Ironhide. From the narrowing glow of the weapons specialist's optics it was clear he knew that it wasn't him exactly that had captured Sideswipe's awe. The idea of someone worshiping the _soon-to-be-dead-Unicron-slagger_ upped the temperature of Ironhide's core by at least a few hundred degrees.

Wheeljack stopped welding and locked optics with Ironhide in thought. Just a brief second. But it was all Ironhide needed to realize that the engineer knew something more than he was saying.

Sideswipe saw the exchange and when the engineer didn't respond he let his jaw drop and his mouth curve into the most childlike of grins.

"Oh Primus!!! You know how he did it, don't you?" Sideswipe asked eagerly.

Wheeljack could have sworn that Ironhide twisted his newly freed helm get better audio on the conversation, too.

The engineer paused uncertainly. He tried to gauge Ironhide's possible reactions.

"…perhaps." He muttered. Testing the waters, as it were.

"You tell me now you Primus-damned soon-to-be-molten-scrap fragger!!!" The weapons specialist's roars almost sent Sideswipe and Wheeljack over the side rail of the elevated lift in shock. The sheer volume of sound left an unpleasant tingle running along the engineer's sensory fins and a dull ringing within Sideswipe's helm. "If you don't tell me now, Jack, I swear, you'll be on Human garbage disposal for the rest of your glitched _life_!!" He threatened.

The engineer looked thoughtful for a moment. His optics tracing the welding that still remained.

"I can't tell you that." At Ironhide's roar of rage and subsequent struggle the engineer momentarily panicked.

"Hey, stop that! Which would you prefer, anyway? Me telling you now…or me cutting you down so you can ask Ratchet yourself?" He offered reasonably.

Much to their combined horror, Ironhide smiled at that.

"Well, what are you two waiting for? Cut me down!!" He snarled enthusiastically.

Sideswipe picked up the welder he'd left at his feet and moved to the opposite –still welded- shoulder and arm. He did a quick pre-check on the welds and spotted some extra reinforcement on the lower arms. Putting the welder back down he called Wheeljack over. The engineer prodded and examined the extra welding work.

"No. That won't work. If you cut around you'll breach the weapon's reactor and the heat from the welder will cause it to explode. Just cut the cannon off at the base. It's either that or the servo." Wheeljack told Sideswipe casually.

Someone's engine revved higher than any normal car was capable of and both mechs turned in slow motion to look at Ironhide. They froze at the expression of horror on his face and watched, fascinated, as it morphed into rage. It started as a tiny, almost unnoticeable twitch of his face plate. The miniscule flicker of movement became a twitch. The twitch then became a spasm.

Within a few moments Ironhide was thrashing violently against the welds that held him to the med-bay ceiling.

The structure groaned ominously. Wheeljack and Sideswipe shared a concerned and knowing look.

Both mechs threw themselves over the side rail of the platform as pieces of torn ceiling and one cannonless weapons specialist fell.

Sideswipe was the first to recover. Dented and scratched but he was otherwise alive. Wheeljack was on his back, unmoving but laughing. He didn't look too much worse than Sideswipe did. The lift was completely totaled. Ironhide had landed square in the middle and the whole platform had collapsed. There was no sign of the weapons specialist but the distant fading rumble told them all they needed to know about that.

Sideswipe stood and stared up through the gaping hole in the ceiling. Dust and sunlight spilled into the room. The furniture welded onto the walls cast unnerving shadows on the floor.

"So how _did_ he reinforce a ceiling and weld Ironhide up there?" Sideswipe asked.

Wheeljack sat up and beamed at Sideswipe.

"With an engineer and a gravity lift, of course."

Both mechs broke into a fit of laughter and Sideswipe dragged his friend up. When Ironhide found out the details it would be best if neither of them were around.

* * *

It started with a low rumble.

A quiet vibration beneath Optimus' pedes that grew in intensity until he could no longer attribute it to the planes taking off and landing on the base runway.

The argument he'd been having with Ratchet ceased as the medic obviously sensed it too. The Prime wasn't in any way relieved about that. He'd have much preferred to be suffering a glitch and imagining the whole thing.

The medic was the first to triangulate the direction it was coming from and following Ratchet's gaze, Optimus was just in time to see the corner of a storage building explode. Debris and dust and boxes caught in the collision were sent hurling in every direction. Humans shouted but went unheard in the deafening noise of the aftermath.

It would seem that Ironhide's CPU had forgone the whole usual process of turning. In battle mode the mech broke everything down to its most efficient solution. Since he was made of stronger stuff than the walls, he obviously figured going around the obstacles to be a waste of precious time that could be better spent slaying medics.

Optimus was somewhat disturbed to find a smile on Ratchet's faceplates. As though all of this mayhem and carnage had been calculated. He wasn't going to put it past the old mech. But the risk that this time one of them would be gravely hurt reared its ugly head. If it was Ratchet, who was going to fix him? The same question again if it was Ironhide that got hurt. The CMO could hold a grudge for vorns.

Optimus' CPU went into overtime looking for a solution that didn't end up in a brawl. If he stepped between them it would end in a three-way brawl. Fighting a medic who knew your every dent and sore spot and fighting an officer that wrote the book on tactics _at the same time_, was not a viable solution for Optimus.

The Prime stepped back and to the side. This put him right behind Ratchet who simply thought the Prime was utilizing his processor on the the matter and was getting out of the way. With a prayer to Primus, Optimus brought a large closed fist down on the back of his CMO's head.

The medic's blades ceased spinning, retracted automatically and his optics dimmed as he fell face first into the dust.

Ironhide screeched to a dirty, hasty halt in his altmode a few feet from the scene and transformed. There was a look of confusion on his face. Absolute. Totally unfiltered. He was looking at Optimus as though he were momentarily uncertain who the Prime was and what he'd been planning to do only moments before. The shock of Optimus' sneak attack had actually temporarily relieved him of all thought. He looked totally blindsided.

Several seconds passed and Ironhide's gaze drifted down to the unconscious medic. His line of sight flitted between his cannonless arms and the medic and piece by piece the information started trickling back into his main processor. He narrowed his optics.

Obviously, Optimus had seen his sudden return to the land of coherent thought because when Ironhide looked up, the last sight before total blackness was a large fist moving at high speed towards his face.


End file.
